I met a man online for coffee this week. It is my first date in a LONG time so, I was nervous. He was a bit, too. He was nice. Good job. Southern accent spoken with pretty lips.
He told me his bit. His past and current and then, unfortunately I ruined it – just as I knew I would. He asked me what I blogged about and I tried to keep it vague “psychology.” But then the questions became more intrusive until I admitted I had mental illness – anxiety and depression. And as sad as I am to admit it I couldn’t say bipolar, because bipolar is “crazy,” right?
He asked what the name of my book I am trying to get published is and then I basically kissed my chances away as I told him it included memoir of mental illness.
It is hard enough to meet people with scars on my wrists and scars from scratching all over my hands. Trying to find someone who will accept all my “stuff” just seems impossible. But that is not going to stop me from trying. I had someone once. I will have someone again.